


one little touch (and love's knocked me out)

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [52]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: ...is not a toy, Blow Jobs, Captain America Sam Wilson, Captain America's Shield, Dream Sex, F/M, Horny Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, Protective Michelle Jones, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: One man's head trauma is another man's sex dream enabler.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [52]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368034
Comments: 22
Kudos: 111
Collections: The Spideychelle Shuffle





	one little touch (and love's knocked me out)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klassmartin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/gifts).



> Based on the following lyrics from "I Can Hear the Bells" from _Hairspray_ :
> 
> _Won’t go all the way/But I’ll go pretty far!_

_It doesn’t cross his mind why he can’t feel her hair between his fingers as he combs it back from her face, or the warmth of her cheek when his palm rests against it. Peter’s focused on MJ’s eyes―fixated on them. Though he’s positive (pretty sure, has a feeling, could be wrong…) that they were at somebody’s birthday (anniversary party, award ceremony, or just a dinner…) a minute ago, they’re suddenly alone. His whole body seems to pump with the beat of his heart, surprised his pulse doesn’t cause a ripple in the warm brown of her eyes, since he feels like he’s swimming in them…_

“Oh my god! What’d he do!”

“He said he could handle it!”

“Sam. It’s _Peter_.”

_He flinches away from the voices and moves his hand down from MJ’s face to curl his fingers around the back of her neck. All of a sudden, he can smell her. And she smells like… the outdoors. It’s nice. Sweet, like clover and mown grass. He can’t help himself, pulling her closer, and she smirks, angling her face towards him willingly…_

“He’s held it before.”

“Yeah, I heard, but that was in a fight, when he was _focused_. How did he look when you handed it over?”

“Focused, Michelle, ok? _Focused_.”

“Focused? You’re sure? Focused. Not wildly excited like he might do something incredibly stupid?”

“Well…”

_They’re kissing hard and fast and he’s not concerned that there’s nothing beyond the shape of her head but searing hot orange. Distantly, Peter has the sense that he’ll blind himself if he opens his eyes, but that’s ok because he doesn’t need to open them. MJ’s hands are on his back, his belt, ringing around to the front and tickling his skin. His shirt’s disappeared somewhere. Running his hands up her arms as she unbuckles and unzips him, he finds she’s not wearing a shirt either. That’s… that’s great… He murmurs her name…_

“Hang on, did he just say something?”

“I think we’ll be lucky if he ever speaks again after this! Feel right here! Feel the goose egg you gave him!”

“Michelle, he’s an adult. He gave _himself_ the damn goose egg.”

“Did you call somebody?”

“Yeah, they’re coming. Said not to move him. Don’t look at me like that!”

_She’s leaning over him… over him because he’s on his back on their living room floor and he’s raising his hips so she can tug his boxers down. Is she gonna do what he hopes she’s gonna do? Man, the floor is so nice and warm. Why doesn’t he lie on the floor more often? He feels so safe, so comfortable and safe, cupping MJ’s shoulders, playing with the ends of her hair that sweep across his bare stomach. Something’s poking him in the head, maybe a rogue slipper or a hardcover book she left in here, but it doesn’t really bother him because she’s kissing down his chest, her hands grasping his naked hips…_

“He moaned! He definitely moaned!”

“See? He’s fine!”

“You don’t usually moan in pain because you’re _fine_ , Sam.”

_Peter rocks his head side to side, trembling with anticipation, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the harsh light out. He’s beginning to feel like he has to go. He needs to get up, or at least reposition, because whatever’s pressing into the side of his head is more insistent now, making his brain throb. But he doesn’t want to. MJ’s licking her lips, parting them. God, she’s amazing. She takes him into her mouth and he writhes, finally able to distinguish the size and shape of the thing against his head―small and round. A ring box! He should propose! He wants to be with her forever, and not just because of the way she strokes her tongue along his shaft right before she sucks, but, fuck, Peter certainly doesn’t mind that._

_“Like that, MJ,” he mumbles._

“Uh, not sure he’s moaning in _pain_.”

“Oh my god. Oh my― _Peter_! Wake up right now, you horny idiot!”

“ _MJ_... MJ?”

He blinks and squints at the sun in his eyes until she cups a hand against his forehead to block it. Concentrating on her backlit face is hard, there’s something wonky about his vision, and he can feel himself trying to fall back into the dream he was having. He attempts to ground himself in his surroundings. It’s not the living room floor beneath him, it’s a lawn, but MJ really does have a hand on his hip, though his jeans are between her palm and his skin. She’s crouched at his side. Up above, Sam’s laughing. At him? At him. Peter groans.

“What happened?”

“Captain America over here let you mess around with his shield and you managed to knock yourself out,” MJ explains with a wry glance at Sam.

“I was bad at throwing it?” Peter can hear how pitiful his own voice sounds. He can sort of remember walking outside with Sam, the reluctant look on the Captain’s face as he passed Peter his shield.

“No, man, you were great. A natural. I was just a little worried about letting you throw the thing straight, you know? With your strength, who knows how far it would’ve gone?”

Sam sounds defensive and Peter, still groggy, doesn’t want him to feel bad.

“I know,” Peter assures him. “I know.” He doesn’t really know. His head’s pretty fuzzy.

“So, I told him to try to boomerang it,” Sam says, apparently to MJ, who Peter can see glaring. “Curve it so it’d come back without taking out any of these trees.”

“Did I hit something?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, your head.”

“ _Ohhh_.”

Reaching a hand up, he gingerly pats his scalp through his hair. He swears. Though his body will have started healing it from the instant it happened, there’s a lump and it hurts like hell. Oh! The lump! The ring box! Taking his hand away from his injury, Peter finds MJ’s on his hip and links their fingers together.

“MJ,” he says, trying to home in on her half-concerned, half-exasperated expression. “What do you think about us getting engaged?”

Sam laughs again, long and loud.

“Why don’t you just lie still until you’re thinking a little more clearly?” MJ suggests, voice kind and soft as she squeezes his hand.

“W-what do you mean? You think I’ll change my mind?”

“No, Peter, but you might remember that we’ve been married for three years.” Before he can apologize, his wife lowers her face close to his. To Sam, it probably looks like she’s checking the bump on his head, but Peter hears her whisper loud and clear: “By the way, what the _hell_ were you dreaming about?”


End file.
